


Breeze

by ghostsandwhiskey



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Gen, Linked Universe, That's it. Those are the tags. Just a bunch of Links in a Linked Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 23:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18292382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsandwhiskey/pseuds/ghostsandwhiskey
Summary: Childhood is a difficult subject for a man like Time. Wind resembles him in several uncanny ways, but he does not see himself at all in the young hero. And it stings.The mask knows it, too.





	Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> Had no idea what Linked Universe was until a week ago, and now I love it. Had to write something for it, for Time in particular. So here we are. A small little thing based off "doodlespt4".

Wind was a hero, but he was a boy beneath it all. A blissful breeze of youth that moved with a certain weightlessness that Time envied. So many years had passed since he stood in those shoes. A hand crept upward, absentmindedly running across his tattooed cheek. Out of the corner of his good eye, he watched Wind dance by the flames of their campfire— an exaggerated mimery of one of his adventures, on second glance. Hyrule and Four were his captive audience tonight, though Time’s ever watchful eye caught the subtleties of Legend’s movement. He had a book open in his lap, but his gaze was turned toward Wind despite the downward crane of his neck.

Time’s fingers passed from cheek to the shadow beneath his mangled eyelid, and he wondered again just how Wind could step so lightly and laugh with so much heart. In the back of his mind he heard a cackle. Feminine, but not that of a woman. Not human either, but a poor mimicry that scraped against the bone of his skull so intensely that before he realized it, his good eye was clamped shut and the corner of his lip curled back.

_COME TO ME._

Time clenched and unclenched his fingers into fists on his knees, inhaled a breath, and resumed his distant watch of the flame. The tattoos on his face seemed to itch, but it was an itch that lurked beneath the skin. One that wouldn’t be satiated by a scratch. He forced himself to think more intensely, to strain his hearing and catch the tail end of Wind’s story.

“…that was when we found out… that my _boat_ had been the king of Hyrule all along!”

Four snorted. “You know, that would’ve been a good twist if we didn’t all know that already.”

Wind’s hands settled on his hips before he gave his audience a melodramatic, dismissive wave. “Hey, you asked for the story, and I’m giving you the story! I’m delivering just as promised.”

Time’s attention wavered, and he missed whatever had been said to prompt Wind, Four, and Hyrule into a small fit of laughter. He looked out toward the lake where the moon was on proud display amid the choppy waters. And he rose, a hand slipping into his bag to pull out a cloth bundle as he went. The others would think little of it. It wouldn’t be the first time he left in the thick of night to survey the area or investigate a noise.

His feet guided him moreso than his brain, clouded with the mist of years long since past. Time’s gait was heavy. Bound by the chains of memory, yearning for the freedom of his younger incarnation. Would there ever come another morning when he opened his eyes and found the world replaying the same day over again? The moon that guided their path and gave them light to see— what if that decided to someday betray them?

_I AM THE ONLY STRENGTH._

He crossed a bridge, long and rickety, but sturdy enough to prevent too much sway. Grasp tightened around the bundle, feeling for the familiar smooth ridges of an artificial face. From one bridge to another, Time found himself in the middle of the lake before long. Beneath a lonely tree that overlooked a small island, he looked to the boughs for advice, but found the spindly branches gave him a sense of unease and nothing else.

He stood by the waterside, and swept his gaze across the lake. The glow of fire was distant now, bodies mere silhouettes across the shore. Time tried to keep his eyes settled there, but the pull of the bundle was magnetic, dragging them downward until he found himself watching his hands trace the outline of the mask beneath.

A stolen glance would prove no harm. Yes… a glance, and that would be all. He peeled back the cloth. Bottomless eyes stared back. It was a perfect mirror reflection of Time’s features with hair of purest white and the same markings he had once obsessively tattooed on his own flesh. It wanted to be him.

He wanted to be it.

The cloth fell to his feet, abandoned. Desperate to feel the warmth of the mask, and the strange pulse so intense that he could feel it in his palms. Beautiful. Surreal. The power to protect above all else. Nothing could stand in the Fierce Deity’s wake. It was a yearning that, on occasion, overpowered his need to eat or sleep or breathe.

**_BECOME ME._**

It made for a compelling argument. With it, nothing would bring harm to Hyrule. Not Ganondorf. His bones would shatter into dust with the mere wave of his hand. Not Majora, a demon of the night that stood no chance before his holy light. And certainly not the dark double that haunted them all, who sowed discord wherever he went. The Fierce Deity was a strength beyond the Triforce. Beyond _knowing_.

“Time?”

The hypnotic spell that had fallen over him shattered. Time jerked his head toward the voice. Wind met his gaze. Time lowered the mask, at a loss for words. Looking over the boy, he realized that he had shrugged back into his sword sheath, even if they had cleansed the area to the best of their ability earlier.

“You didn’t look all there.” Wind drew closer, cautious. His face was drained of storyteller’s energy, left purse-lipped and furrow-browed. “You’re not alright, are you?”

Time opened his mouth to answer. His voice refused him. Wind bent down to retrieve the cloth, and with his hands covered by the fabric, reached to take the mask from Time’s grasp. He tugged to no avail. “Time, you don’t need it. Put it back.”

It felt like giving away part of his soul. Time released it, and Wind wrapped the divine face back in its cloth sarcophagus before handing it back. The pull lessened in intensity, and Time hung his head, a sudden shame coming over him.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Are you gonna tell us about it, someday?” Wind’s voice had quietened too. 

“No.”

“Can I ask why?”

“There aren’t words for it.”

Wind tugged one of Time's hands away from the bundle, and took it in his own. With the tilt of his head toward the bridge, he started in that direction. Leading Time in slow step. The grass crunched sharply beneath his heels, Time noted. Wind clutched the rail of the first bridge as they went. “I don’t wanna lose you, okay?”

“And I don’t want to lose any of you.” It seemed the only reply Time could think of.

“We’ll get through it.” Wind smiled at last. This one was a soft one. Reserved in spite of his usual beaming grins. “We aren’t alone anymore, remember? There’s nine of us, now. Nine times stronger… right?”

The flames grew bolder with a slow steadiness. Without Wind at the camp, there were no outstanding voices. None that could be heard over the lake’s babbling. Time lowered the bundle fully to his side. “You’re right,” he replied after a length of pause. The camp grew larger, and with it, the voice of the divine snake shrunk into the shadows.

“Put that thing back when we get there, okay? Then come sit with us.” Wind’s smile was returning. The proper smile— the one that got the others to smile even when the night seemed darkest. “Legend’s gonna tell the next story. He said it’s about the time he went on a date with a Subrosian.” He paused. “Whatever that is!”

Time nodded. Legend rarely told stories in comparison to the others. He wondered what Wind had said to make it happen, though it surprised him little. Wind was highly convincing when he wanted to be. He looked forward to it.

At last they passed into proper view of the camp. Some heads perked from around the fire. Wild and Twilight had returned from hunting, apparently— the scent of roasting meat met Time’s nostrils. Wind waved, and won a few waves in return.

It was easy to forget sometimes. Wind was a boy, but above all else, he was a hero same as the rest.


End file.
